


They Don't Make Paperwork For That

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [103]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: Cloaca, Cloacal Sex, Cloacalingus, Enemy Lovers, Established Relationship, Heinz is Good now so they're not ACTUALLY enemies but that doesn't mean they're not still nemeses, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Marking, POV Second Person, Perry has entirely too much paperwork to deal with, Size Difference, Size Kink, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: Really, he chooses to do this now? Patience has never been his strong suit but you'd hoped for at least another few minutes. Enough to get the last half a page done.
Relationships: Heinz Doofenshmirtz/Perry the Platypus
Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [103]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/746841
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	They Don't Make Paperwork For That

You're finishing up your report, in his apartment because it's the middle of winter and OWCA didn't have the budget for heating so your underground base is frozen over and even your winter fur isn't enough to keep you warm, when he drapes himself across your shoulders. The scent of his cologne wraps around you a moment later, and you take a deep breath. Really, he chooses to do this now? Patience has never been his strong suit but you'd hoped for at least another few minutes. Enough to get the last half a page done.

Then again, you've been at this for hours, he must have run out of ways to amuse himself. That, or he's desperate for your attention. He has a tendency of climbing all over you when that happens.

"Nearly done, Perry the Platypus?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your temple, and you sigh internally. You're not going to get any work done, are you. Especially with the way he's running his hands through your fur, leaving your skin prickling in the wake of his fingers until you're well and truly distracted from your work, shivering at the slightest touch.

You turn around to nuzzle/admonish him, because you love him but _now is not the time_ , only for him to capture your mouth in a kiss before you can so much as frown.

Exasperating. That's what your boyfriend is. Endearingly _exasperating_.

Not that you'll let that stop you from twisting your paws into his shirt to pull him closer, because _he_ may have started it but _you're_ the one who's going to end this. Like thwarting, except for the part where you _both_ win.

He lets himself be pulled in, tongue exploring your mouth as if he's not intimately familiar with it already, lips curling up in what can only be a smug grin. Completely insufferable. If it wasn't for the fact that you somehow find it endearing, you'd push him away for now and turn back to your work.

"It can wait," he mumbles into you, fingers twisting securely into your fur. There's a roughness to his voice that sends shivers up your spine, and you tug him closer. He's right, the paperwork can wait-

That's when he tosses you onto the desk, right on top of your carefully-stacked report.

A moment later he's leaning over you, deep blue eyes shining with anticipation. "I've been thinking about you all day," he whispers, one hand scritching at your chest. "Do you know how hard it is," and he presses a trail of kisses down your chin and neck that you can't help but arch into, "to keep my hands off you-" He slides his hand down to your hips, stroking the soft fur of your belly with gentle fingers, close enough to your cloaca that it's all you can think about. "-when you look like _this_ , Perry the Sexypus?"

Your eyes drift shut and you let out a soft growl, relaxing into his touch as he slowly but surely wanders further down-

Until he stops.

Unbelievable. All that teasing and he's not even going to make good on it. You sit up and hook your fingers into the neck of his shirt, tugging him close enough to sink your teeth into his lip. That's what he gets for _stopping_.

He kisses back, hands sliding back up to curl around your jaw. " _Eager_ , are you?" he says, a whisper against your bill, and you nod. After his... _convincing_..., how could you not be? And he smiles at that, unfairly adorable. The way his grin lights up his whole face... ugh. How dare he be so gorgeous. "Perry the Eagerpus," and he moves down between your legs, breath warm against your entrance. "Is _this_ what you want?" He leans in, still staring right at you, and presses his lips to your cloaca in a kiss.

A jolt of pleasure runs up your spine, leaving your fur standing in its wake. Yes, that's _exactly_ what you want. You curl your tail around the back of his neck so he can't just pull away. Because he _would_ , he's done it before, getting you worked up and leaving so you have to _chase_ him.

Today, you don't much feel like chasing him.

"You _like_ that." Smugness drips from his voice. He has you right where he wants you and he _knows_ it. Evil. Pure evil. Because of course he can't _really_ give up his Evil ways, just redirect them into harmless pursuits. Like distracting you from your paperwork. Tormenting you with his skilled hands and mouth. Making up overcomplicated schemes just so he can tell you he loves you.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't adore every second of it.

If the way he's nosing at your entrance is any indication, you're not the only one. "You smell so good, Perry the Platypus," he mumbles, voice attractively rough. "I bet you _taste_ even better." You squirm under him, already breathless at the thought. "I want to-" With one swift motion he captures your wrists and pins them above your head. "- _thwart_ you," he finishes.

Thwarting. He has his irritatingly talented mouth on your cloaca and he calls it _thwarting_. You pull at his firm grip on your arms, giving him a firm glare. If he wants a thwarting, you'll _show_ him a thwarting, just as soon as you're _free_ -

"You're _trapped_ ," he whispers, still effortlessly holding you in place. "I've _trapped_ you, Perry the Platypus." He meets your glare, not fazed in the slightest. "And now..." Without taking his eyes off you, he licks your entrance, tongue wide and flat and _warm_ against the bare skin, and you arch up off the desk. "I was right, you _do_ taste good." Then he does it again, slower, pulling a moan from you.

No matter what else you could say about your boyfriend, you can't deny how talented he is with his mouth. After all, he talked you into bed with him, that first time. And most of the times since. He's very... _convincing_... with that tongue of his.

Before you can so much as growl, he licks around the rim of your entrance, not quite pushing inside, and draws another groan out of you. He- Ugh. He is _clearly_ enjoying himself _entirely_ too much, the tease.

And who are you to stop him? You curl your tail tighter around his neck, holding his face between your legs where it belongs. Not that he _minds_. You can tell from the way he's still smirking up at you like the cat that got the cream. _Your_ \- you swallow - cream. His face is covered with it, glistening in the evening light, and you can't take your eyes off him.

Knowing he has an audience, he slowly licks his lips, wet tongue catching the worst of the mess you've made on his pale skin. Then, to top it all off, because _of course_ your boyfriend has to make a show of it, he lets out a quiet moan.

Heat flares in your gut at the sound, and you feel the breath catch in your throat. If there's one thing you've come to love about him, it's his voice. Some might call it Stockholm Syndrome, from all the times he's monologued at you as a literal captive audience, but you know better. You know for a fact that your boyfriend is at least as much in love with you as you are with him. You know he fell for you first.

"You _like_ that, don't you Perry the Platypus," he murmurs into your fur, aggravatingly smug. And correct.

But if he wants you to _admit_ that, he'll have to work for it. You know how to guard a secret. After all, you're still a trained OWCA agent. Mostly trained to fill out _paperwork_ , these days, but still _trained_.

The grip on your wrists shifts, then disappears as he brings his hands down to slide through your fur. "You're so _handsome_ ," he says in a low voice, kissing your belly. "Strong, too. How many times have you thrown me across the room? Too many, I know _that_ much."

You roll your eyes, smiling despite yourself. It's hard to resist his talent for flattery, especially when he talks about your well-honed fighting abilities.

"Not that I'm _complaining_." Another kiss, and his fingers pass over the fur a moment later, combing it flat. "It's _attractive._ The way you move. Your muscles-" He presses his fingertips into you, massaging your chest. "-flexing like a- a thing that flexes. Don't look at me like that, Perry the Sassypus. Anywho, as I was saying, you are so-" His hands slide down, slowly. "-incredibly-" A whine slips from your throat as his mouth brushes over your entrance. "- _strong_." And with that he digs his nails into your hips, pinning you in place.

Another trap. Curse him.

The wicked gleam in his eyes is all the warning you get before he scrapes his teeth over your cloaca. Pain blurs into pleasure and you writhe under him, gasping for air, the dick you don't have sliding past his lips. "You like that?" he murmurs into you, and you twist your fingers into his hair, desperate for more, begging for it. You love it when he hurts you like this. You love _him_ and everything he does to you.

That's obviously enough for him, because he keeps going. His long tongue dips into you, firm and probing, and you clench around it with a shudder. _So_ much better than paperwork. The tip of his tongue curls up to slide over a spot that makes you moan and arch up into his hands, and you feel his mouth turn up in a grin. He is _entirely_ too smug about what he's doing to you. You'd kick him for it, if you hadn't already established kicking as the sign you need him to stop. Since you _don't_ , you push his head against you instead so he has no excuse for not going deeper.

He pulls back anyway, despite your insistence, sliding his thumb into your cloaca when you whine at him. "How are you doing, Perry the Platypus?" he murmurs as he pulls at your entrance, preparing you for what you both know is coming.

You drag him up by the hair in response, claiming his mouth in a kiss so you can tell him _exactly_ how you're doing. That is to say, better than you've felt all week. Every part of you is aching for him, from the tip of your bill to the end of your tail, a deep burning need that consumes your thoughts and leaves your mind blissfully empty.

His lips part easily for you and you groan, tasting yourself on his tongue, the same earthy musk that fills the air around you. It's _intoxicating_. You need more. So you _take_ it, driving your tongue into his mouth, loving the way he's so willing to submit for you.

"You're so _demanding_ ," he murmurs when you let him up for air.

Demanding? You'll show him _demanding_. You curl your tail up to press between his legs and the warm hardness there, making sure he knows _exactly_ what you want. Namely, his cock. His long, thick, _hot_ cock, splitting you open and filling you with his seed.

"See? That's exactly what I mean!" he says, and if it wasn't for his hips rocking against you you'd almost think he was _annoyed_. Then, as if to prove it, he strips his shirt off to toss behind him, revealing the familiar scars covering his skin. "Always bossing me around. Perry the Bossypus, that's you."

You roll your eyes and kiss him again. He doesn't _actually_ mind. Really, he likes it when you take the lead. So you do, hooking a foot behind his leg and twisting.

A moment later you're perched on top of his hips, staring down at him on full display below you. Right where you like to be. From here, you have the whole of his chest to touch and lick and mark, territory you can claim as your own. Territory you've already claimed many times before, but it never hurts to remind him.

He shivers under you as you lean forward, your paws splayed out on his pale skin, to lick at his collarbone. "I don't mean to be a _bother_ ," he says, gaze fixed on the ceiling, "but I'm having lunch with _Roger_ in a couple days..."

No noticeable marks, got it.

A quick nuzzle at his neck and you move down, dragging your bill along the line of one of the nastier scars, to place a kiss over his heart. _Yours_. You both know it, so you don't _need_ to leave a mark to prove it... although you think you'll make one anyway. Somewhere only the two of you will see. He'll like that, if the way he tends to fidget over them is anything to go by.

You nip at his chest, just off-centre, next to the faint scars from some backstory he told you once, and he tenses between your legs. He has so many backstories, and so many scars, and you're furious at everyone who's ever told him he _deserved_ it. There's so much pain in his past and he still thinks it's _his_ fault. _Him_ , who's never been cruel a day in his life. Petty and vindictive, sure, but he's never delighted in hurting someone _just because_ , not like...

Pushing the memory out of your mind, you turn your focus back to _him_ , your nemesis, flat on his back with a mark that aches for your tongue to soothe it. So you do. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the salt of his sweat, the stuttering pulse of his heartbeat, the sound of his voice.

"Perry the Platypus," he croaks, and the sound goes straight to your core.

A growl slips from your throat and you dig your fingers in, rutting against his stomach, needing him to feel _wanted_. Because you want him. You want to hear every little sound he makes for you. You want to feel him writhe between your legs. You want to lick and suck at his pale skin until he cries out and arches back and bares his pretty throat, just for you. You want his voice, his cock, his love. You want _him_ , scars and all, past and all, flaws and all.

He's _yours_ and you need to make sure he knows it.

Nip and lick and mark his pale skin, for him and him alone. No one else matters but _him_ , your boyfriend, your nemesis, your Heinz. It's enough that he knows.

Almost enough. It doesn't sate the ache to feel his dick inside you, but the need for something to call your own is calmed by the knowledge that he's _your_ nemesis, he's _yours_ , that he _wants_ to be yours. That much is obvious, if you look. He's clutching at your shoulders, holding you in place so you couldn't move even if you wanted to, teeth tugging at his reddened lip. Offering himself up to you in every way, and how could you say no to that?

Sitting back to admire your handiwork, you grind your wet cloaca on the front of the pants he's still wearing, pulling a muffled groan from his throat. Your name stretches across his chest, deep purple and impossible to miss. A claim he can't deny.

He's told you enough of his history that you _know_ what this means for him. That's why you do it, every time the marks fade.

A whine escapes his throat as he arches up off the desk, hands moving to your hips. "You're a _tease_ , you know that?" Says _him_. "Perry the _Tease_ -apus." You're just returning the favour. "If you don't stop soon I'll be _done_ , what will you do then, huh?" Sit on his face, probably. "You probably want-"

You cut him off with a growl. Of course you _want_ , when he's holding back like this. And what you want is his _cock_.

A twist is all you need to escape his grip, then you're sliding down to kneel on the desk, between his legs, where it's the work of moments to undo his pants and pull his dick free. It bobs with his pulse and his heaving chest, just past the end of your bill, as thick around as your fist and slouching like the rest of him. You take him in your paws, needing both just to hold him, his precum oozing between your fingers and soaking into your fur until he's nice and slick in your palms.

Hauling yourself back up, you splay your forepaws on his skin and lean forward, trembling with need. How he fits _inside_ you, you still don't know. But he will. As big as his human cock feels right now, blazing hot against your throbbing cloaca, you've done this before.

"Are you trying to _thwart_ me, huh?" he groans, gripping tight to the edge of the desk. "You _are_ , aren't you?"

Only because he suggested it. Nodding anyway, you breathe heavily, eyes squeezed shut. He may not officially be your nemesis any more but he's still your _nemesis_ , of course you'll thwart him. Digging your claws into his hips, you rut along the side of his shaft, your own precum mixing with his. Another claim, obvious enough that even he can see it.

Knuckles white, he continues the monologue he's _clearly_ been working up to. "Because you're _succeeding_. You have me in quite the- the _bind_ , Perry the Platypus, that's supposed to be _my_ job, to trap _you_ , but you're-" He lets out a strangled laugh, his body shuddering underneath you. "- _you_ are so _smug_ right now, and it's- it's _attractive_ , that's what it is. You're lucky I haven't _finished_ already, but if you don't _stop_ with the- the _this_ , or at least _slow down_ a little, then I _will_ , and we _both_ know you wouldn't _like_ that. So, are you going to _wear_ my cum, or am I going to _fill_ you like a fish tank?"

He has such a way with words. At least he'll shut up soon, if _you_ have anything to say about it. _Speechless_ , even, just how you like him.

But he _does_ have a point, so you bow your head in acknowledgement, holding yourself as still as you can. Wouldn't do to deny yourself the pleasure of his cum inside you. Wrapping your tail around his cock, you position yourself at his singular tip, forcing yourself to take calm, steady breaths. This is everything you've been waiting for.

One last glance shows him biting his lip, pupils wide. Attractively speechless. His hands thread themselves through your fur, holding tight, an _anchor_. For you or for him, you're not entirely sure.

Eyes meeting his, you give him a lopsided grin, the one only he gets to see. It's all in your paws now. His trust, his body, his _pleasure_. Everything that makes him the man you love. You let out a breath and sink down onto him, cloaca stretching around his girth, every pulse and twitch deeper inside than the last until you can't fit any more.

"That's as far as you're going?" he confirms after a few seconds, and you nod. Shifting under you, he wraps his hand around his cock, nudging you ever so slightly up so his finger can rest where you were. "There you go, how's that? So much better, huh?" He remembers, as well as you do, the first and last time you neglected to take your smaller size into account. The girth of his cock isn't the problem, it's a point of _pride_ for you that you can take _that_ , but too deep and all you can feel is pain. So he's found a way around it. "When you're ready, Perry the Platypus."

How can you resist his fond grin? Front paws on his belly for support, you push yourself up, almost to his tip, watching his face as you do. He's biting his lip again to muffle his whimpers, arching up off the desk. Right where you want him. Letting out a quiet growl of satisfaction, you slide back down to where his fingers rest and back up again, the movement easier each time.

His other hand twists deeper into your fur and tugs, just the right side of painful. "You really are _relentless_ , aren't you?" he groans breathlessly, in that tone you know means _keep going _. "Always-" And here he gives you a sloppy grin. "-_ thwarting_ me. That's you."

Heat rises in your cheeks and you nod. It still feels almost transgressive to call it _thwarting_ , after all your training. Thwarting is _special_ , only between you and your assigned nemesis, not to be sullied with _feelings_. Or so you'd been told. You'd tried to explain that to him once, scared of what it might mean that your nemesisship was changing. _You're still my nemesis, what difference does it make_ , he'd countered, and kissed you, not for the first time.

"So," he says now, thumbing drool from the corner of your mouth, " _thwart_ me, Perry the Platypus."

Transgressive or not, you can't say no to this man. Your _nemesis_. And, you've reasoned, because he's your nemesis, the things you do with him, _to_ him, are thwarting. Including this.

Closing your eyes, you fill your lungs with the scent of his sweat and your cloaca with his hard cock, again and again, determined to _thwart_ him speechless. Payment/revenge for all the sounds he's pulled from your throat, the growls and moans and helpless whines. It's only _fair_.

His breath hitches each time you drive yourself onto him, settling into a comfortable rhythm, your body in sync with his. You always have been perfectly matched, through your nemesisship and now. Heat flares inside you as you move, warmer even than his human cock, and you let out a groan, clenching around him. You're so _close_. As is he, your _nemesis_ , silent for once in his life. The only thing left to hear is your ragged breaths and the slick noise of his dick sliding into you.

When he finds his release, he only gets quieter. Arching up off the desk, tugging roughly at your fur, holding you in place while he floods your insides with his cum, and still he doesn't make a sound. Not even to curse your name.

A whine escapes your throat and you speed up, fast and hard and _demanding_ like he always says you are, desperate to finish before he softens completely. Groaning, you lean forward to lap at his skin, salty with sweat. Yours. You did this to him, _thwarted_ him, but thwarting's not enough, you need _more_ , you need-

Dragging his fingers down your spine, he sends you crumpling onto his human-warm chest, eyes squeezed shut. All you can do is shake, too weak to hold yourself up any longer. One of his large hands holds you in place while the other, hastily wiped clean on his pants, digs in roughly at the base of your tail until you're sobbing from it. "Shh, Perry the Platypus," he whispers hoarsely, barely audible over your pounding heart, "I've got you."

You trust him. He's your nemesis and you _trust_ him, so you release your tight hold on your composure and let him guide you through. Heat radiates outwards from your cloaca, still clenched around his cock, and into your limbs, leaving you limp and heavy in its wake.

"Curse you, Perry the Platypus," he murmurs next, when you've almost caught your breath. He's already recovered, the _jerk_ , stroking your fur the way he always does when he's within arm's reach.

Summoning what little strength you've regained, you reach up and flick his nose. Endlessly exasperating. And you love him for it.

He tugs you gently off his now-soft cock, holding you to his chest while he sits up, and retrieves his discarded shirt to wipe you both down. Serves him right, it was his idea in the first place. _You_ were busy with your...

Paperwork.

Which was stacked neatly on your desk. The desk you just had _sex_ on, because your _nemesis_ couldn't wait _five minutes_. You groan, not wanting to see the mess you made of it, knowing that won't change anything. So you open your eyes.

Then immediately close them again, your paw already cramping in protest. You're going to have to fill out the _entire thing_ all over again, aren't you.

**_FUCK._ **

**Author's Note:**

> After, well, long enough that the last _two_ copies of the file had the year listed, it's done.
> 
> The inspiration came from, uh, so I was reading someone's liveblogging of 50 Shades and how bad it is, and encountered the phrase "fuck the paperwork", and the idea for this came _immediately_. Just took a while to finish it.
> 
> Perryshmirtz server in series description~


End file.
